


First Date

by SandraClegane



Series: Where the Cherwell Meets the Thames [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Oxford, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraClegane/pseuds/SandraClegane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU, set in Oxford. University student Sansa has asked out the grumpy stranger she sees on a daily basis. But is this date all it promises to be...?</p>
<p>Same AU / follows on to "Kiss A Ginger"</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Date

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still overwhelmed by all the love I got for "Kiss A Ginger" (thank you!!), and as there were a few requests for more, I have written this little story. 
> 
> I hope it doesn't disappoint! Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> P.S. I've heavily borrowed from the books in this one, I hope you don't mind and it 'works'!

Sansa could feel her heart hammering wildly in her chest as the large shape of a man approached her table. _He has come! The Hound has come!_ She nervously straightened herself in her chair and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, then looked up at the imposing figure, which had pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. _Don’t mess it up now, Sansa!_ She gave him a shy smile and said, “Hello!”. It came out croaky and blustery, not at all the self-assured tone she’d had in mind, and Sansa blushed in embarrassment, cursing herself for showing her nervousness so openly.

The Hound gave her a sardonic smile, but his eyes were kind; the anger and bitterness she was so used to seeing wasn’t there. That gave her the courage to try again. “Erm, hello, I’m glad you could make it,” she said more confidently this time, and a genuine smile lit up her face.

“Wasn’t quite sure if it was you. If you meant it,” The Hound responded, leaving Sansa to wonder just what he meant. “I don’t even know your name,” he continued.

 

Sansa wasn’t sure if that had been a question, but she decided to answer nevertheless. “I’m Sansa. Sansa Stark,” she introduced herself. “And you are…?”

 

“Sandor. Clegane.” He gave her a half smile and held out his hand over the table. Sansa shook it, and couldn’t help but marvel at how small her own hand looked in his, how pale and soft compared to the Hound’s rough, hairy paw. Feeling his skin made Sansa wonder what the rest of his body felt like, and she blushed at the thought and looked down at the table to hide her flushed cheeks.

 

Just then, a colleague of hers approached the table. “Hey there! Sansa, have you guys decided what you are having yet, or do you need a moment?”

 

Sansa was thankful for the distraction, so she quickly opened the menu. “Erm… is wine ok with you, Sandor? Red or white?” – “Red,” he replied, looking at the wine list. “The Cote-du-Rhone looks good.”

“We’ll have a bottle of that, please, James,” Sansa told her colleague. “And maybe some bread and olives?” she glanced questioningly at Sandor. He nodded in reply, and James took their menus and left.

 

“You come here often then?” Sandor growled.

“Oh, well, yes, kind of! I work here. As a waitress. Twice a week,” Sansa replied, maybe a little too quickly; and she hated the way her words seemed to stumble over another. _Calm down! What are you, 14?_

She caught him studying her face, and noticed he seemed surprised. “Oh,” he said. “Your sort don’t usually work.” He turned to take the bottle of wine that James had just brought to their table, and pours each of them a glass.

 

Sansa was still mulling over what he had just said as she picked up her glass. “My sort?” she inquired.

 

“Well, yes. Posh people. Public school, university folk,” he replied in a low rasp.

Much to her own surprise, Sansa could feel anger bubble up inside her. She didn’t get angry very often, and would rather disperse any conflict than seek it; but this had hit a nerve.

Nevertheless, she tried to compose herself before she spoke. “Um, yes, but just because my family is well off, or because I’ve had a private education, it doesn’t mean that I’m above doing manual work,” she said through slightly gritted teeth. _And anyway, he doesn’t need to know that I did feel working here was beneath me when I started!_ Sansa looked up at the Hound defiantly.

 

Now, he seemed even more surprised; and maybe slightly wary of her. “Ah. Didn’t think you had it in you to talk back. Didn’t they teach you to be polite in your etiquette classes?” He took a big gulp of wine.

 

_So is that what he thinks of me? That I’m some empty-headed posh girl?_ Sansa could feel herself blushing again; whether from anger or embarrassment, she did not know. She noted that he had helped himself to a second glass of wine. _Some romantic dinner this is,_ she thought bitterly.

 

They sat in awkward silence as the bread, butter and olives were served. By now, Sansa didn’t feel at all hungry anymore, but she took some bread to nibble on, just so she had something to do. The Hound sat in stony silence, chewing on some olives and drinking rather quickly.

 

_Sandor. His name is Sandor. A nice name really, it sounds so soft and endearing. But right now he looks more like the ferocious Hound I’m used to._

 

And it was true – when she looked at him, she could see the anger had crept back into his stormy grey eyes. But Sansa would not give up that easily.

 

“So, anyway,” she began, putting a false cheer into her voice. “I’m sure that living in Oxford, you must have come across lots of university students, and know they’re not all the same.”

Before she could say any more, he interrupted: “Actually, they are. All those high-and-mighty professors, the arrogant students; hell, even the porters think they’re something better than you!” He tore of a piece of bread and chewed it vigorously. “A rotten lot, all of them. Living in their ivory tower, scheming, telling themselves how clever they are and _good,_ and next thing you know they’re all managers and brokers and politicians, ruining society and preying on the lower classes.”

 

She hated the way he talked, so harsh and angry. “Why are you always so hateful?” she asked, thinking of all the times she’d seen him so full of pent-up rage. “And it is not true, you know. Most of my friends at uni are very down-to-earth. And they’re not all posh, either,” she continued. “I’m sure we all want to use our jobs, our positions, to improve society; to make things better. And good politicians protect the weak.”

He snorted derisively. “There are no ‘good’ politicians; and I’m pretty sure the Tories haven’t ever done anything to protect the weak, quite the opposite. And that’s who you’re voting for, isn’t it?” Sandor looked at her challengingly, a mocking half grin distorting the burnt side of his face in an ugly way.

 

Sansa hugged herself, suddenly cold. “You’re awful,” she whispered, meeker than she’d have liked.

 

“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now can we stop talking about this, I’d like to enjoy my wine.”

 

Sansa could feel the tears stinging behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them spill out. _How did it all go so horribly wrong?_ she wondered. _We’ve seen each other every day, I was sure there was something there; and he_ kissed _me! He even smiled at me when he walked in this evening… and look at us now!_

 

They sat in silence, Sansa nibbling at her crust of bread and slowly sipping her glass of wine, while Sandor polished off the rest of the food and most notably the wine. When he had finished, he asked for the bill and paid; still not saying so much as a word to Sansa. She stood up and put her coat on, and together they left the restaurant.

 

Outside, she turned towards him. “Well, thank you for a… an _interesting_ evening,” she began; when Sandor cut her off. “Spare me your empty little courtesies, girl,” he snarled. “I know this probably wasn’t what you expected.”

 

_Too right it wasn’t._ “Alright then, I’ll be off,” she said, turning to leave, when Sandor took her by the elbow, not ungently. “I’ll walk you home,” he growled, as if he’d unwillingly been saddled with a chore.

The offer surprised her, but Sansa didn’t want to start arguing again. “I…I’ll just go and get my bike,” she muttered. She took off the lock and pushed her bike beside her. They walked along, wordlessly, and crossed the road to take the path past Christ Church Meadow.

 

As they walked farther away from the road, they became shrouded in darkness, and the noises of the traffic faded in the distance.

 

Sansa began to feel calmer, although she was still upset and confused, and a little bit afraid of the hulking man beside her. _Why did he even come, if he despises ‘my sort’ so much? Have I done anything wrong? Why is he taking me home, when it’s so clear he’d rather be far away from me? Why is he always so angry?_

Just then, Sandor interrupted her thoughts by clearing his throat. “Listen… I’m- I’m sorry for spoiling your evening,” he rasped in a low voice. “I’m not very good at… _this_ ,” he gestured at the air between them. “I’m not used to it. You know, going out. And you…” he sighed. “You could do much better than an old dog like me, little bird.”

Sansa’s tenseness had eased up a bit when he started speaking, and what he said made her feel a bit better. _Okay, that explains it a bit, he hasn’t been dating much… Hold on, what was that?!_

“What- what did you just call me?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Sandor seemed confused, and it was hard to make out his face in the darkness, with just a little bit of moonlight; but Sansa swore that he looked rather a bit embarrassed! “Oh that! Well, it’s nothing. Really. Just… you know, I’m not sure you noticed me much-” _Hah!_ “-but I have seen you around a lot, and obviously I didn’t know your name until today, so I sort of made up my own… and once I heard you singing to a song with your headphones on, so…” his voice trailed off.

 

Sansa glanced up at him. His gaze was firmly fixed on his feet. _So he really is embarrassed!_ Something fluttered in her stomach; and all the gloominess and sadness she had felt seemed to have dissolved into nothing. She noticed a bench by the side of the path, and suddenly she knew just what to do.

 

“Hold on!” she said, leaning her bike against the bench and climbing up. Standing on it, she gestured for him to come closer.

Now Sansa was a bit taller than Sandor, and she enjoyed being able to look down on this large, powerful man. He looked a bit confused, but there was no hate or anger in his eyes. Her heart beating wildly, Sansa cupped his face in her hands… then she leaned closer and, summoning all her courage, she kissed him. _I can’t believe I’m doing this!_

 

Her lips lingered on his, and the tingle of their skin touching sent a buzz of excitement through her entire body.

Gently, Sandor pulled away and looked at her. “Are you sure…?” he left the rest unsaid.

Sansa smiled, and nodded. Her hands now rested on his shoulders, and she could feel how solid his muscles were through his coat. “I know that… we have differing opinions on some matters,” she said diplomatically, and Sandor chuckled at that. “But I also know that… we have something else,” she concluded, trying to make out the look in his grey eyes in the moonlight.

 

Sandor hesitated, then Sansa could see a small, genuine smile softening his features. “Yes,” he said in his deep, husky voice, “We also have that.”

 

When he took her face in his hands and started kissing her, all Sansa could think of was the heat of his body against hers, the delicious taste of his tongue, the intoxicating scent of his skin and his hair; and how she wanted this like she had never wanted anything before. _And him. And him._

 

 

 

 


End file.
